Something to Share
by queerquinn
Summary: Teddy Lupin isn't an expert or anything. He's a good Healer and a good friend, but he's otherwise lost when it comes to matters of the heart - especially his own. He's solitary and quiet and doesn't understand his interest in Louis Weasley at all. [A small insight to how I imagined Teddy Lupin - not necessarily finished] Louis/Teddy.


_Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter_

**A/N (Please read):**Welcome to my fourth story! I thought I would expand my horizons and try a different ship... and a different era! I've always been interested in Teddy Lupin, but could never find the right words to portray him, so hopefully this does you (and me) justice for how I imagine him to have turned out. This fanfiction is set in 2022 (weird that it's in the future) and Teddy is a 25 year-old androgyne with a habit for wearing dresses and forgetting he has obligations to interact with people he cares about. I thought I would have a try at writing someone who does not fit the gender normative, so I sincerely apologize in advance if this offends anyone or makes anyone feel uncomfortable. I chose not to disclose Teddy's non-binary gender in the summary as it is only hinted and unnecessary to the actual story, but I thought I would relay it here anyway and see what you all think. He is also potentially Demisexual, but I'll get to that later.

So, without any further banter, enjoy!

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Teddy doesn't pretend to be an expert on anything. He knows everyone presents him as a role model, but he finds himself exceptionally lost on all accounts of experience and advice. Foreign to him are matters of the heart and of the young and the adventurous who seek his guidance with wide eyes and pleas of honesty. Oftentimes he browses the long list of books in his head and relates to his cousins and siblings what he has learned from fiction and from the sufferings and hardships of people who exist only in his own imagination. He does not trust himself to give them a sincere judgement when he isn't sure of his own. Why he is saddled with the responsibility of being the all-knowing elder brother is beyond him, but he takes this obligation seriously, if slightly lacking in strategy. He attempts to make observations and takes more mental notes than he can keep track of, and so his advice it not always sound, nor is it helpful, but he is continually consulted by these youngsters despite his feeble know-how.

"Teddy." Lily Luna is sixteen. Teddy has seen photos of Harry's mother and is amused to see how well Lily is growing into a striking likeness, all red hair and brilliant smiles and charming freckles. Once a mirror-image of her mother, her substantial growth-spurts ceased and her hair went from dark red to a beautiful auburn after she cut it short three years ago. She skips over to him; an impressive accomplishment in heavy Doc Martens, a token of Teddy's punk influence on her. She throws herself across his lap on the sofa, dislodging the book in his hands, her troubled green eyes blinking up at him. "Teddy; you know things, right?"

Teddy peers down at her through his reading glasses, furrowing his thick brows, somewhat exasperated. He closes his book with a quiet snap, removes his frames and says, "Not exactly," as he usually does when she or one of her family heckles him for his instruction. Lily graces him with an unsettled expression, clearly concerned with whatever is bothering her this time. Guiltily, he motions for her to continue, hoping she will not ask him to give an arm and a leg by way of his counsel.

"Do you think Scorpius fancies me?"

Teddy ponders this for a moment, grateful that the question is relatively without problematic repercussions. Considering they are second cousins, he has only met Scorpius Malfoy a handful of times during the summer holidays when the child was dragged by Albus to the Burrow or to the Potter's by the scruff of his neck. He was a curious kid, Teddy thought upon meeting him, much kinder and good-natured than his name implied – but after Albus was sorted into Slytherin, Teddy and the Potter's had all but given up on preconceived notions about others; something they had begun to learn early on in Teddy's life.

"Do you fancy him?" he asks Lily, attempting to avoid the question. It is not what he would describe as difficult to answer, but he is reluctant anyway for he knows Lily likely won't appreciate what little he has deduced about Scorpius Malfoy.

"Of course; that's why I'm asking," she retorts, sitting up from his lap and curling into a corner of the sofa. She twirls her fingers through her hair, which is beginning to curl at the ends due to its length, identifying split-ends somewhat absently, her face pink. Teddy knows it hadn't been her intention to confess her fancy so bluntly, but he cannot condemn her for being careless with her words. She is sixteen and smitten and Teddy only wishes he knew the feeling.

"How _well_ do you fancy him?" Teddy presses, evaluating how tactlessly he may be able break it to her.

Lily shrugs, looking up. "I just think he's fit, that's all," she says. "He has a nice way of speaking."

Teddy nods, following her reason emphatically. Scorpius didn't have that iconic Malfoy drawl everyone had been expecting, but a soft tone, eloquent and musical. It had been somewhat hypnotising, Teddy recalls, and it seemed to him that Albus lacked the restraint to relinquish his gaze whenever Scorpius spoke.

"Sorry, Lils, but I'm afraid you may not be his type," Teddy finally admits. "Though, that is not any fault of your own."

"How'dyou mean?" Lily cocks her head to the side, thankfully undeterred by his knowledge and instead deeply curious.

"Would it be strange if I tell you he likely fancies Albus?"

She wrinkles her nose, disgusted. "How can _anyone_ fancy Albus? He's such a tit," she relates brutally.

Teddy gives her a meaningful look and hits her in the knees playfully. "Don't sass your brother. It's not his fault he's punkfully-challenged," he jests. Lily laughs, melodious and loud, the kind of laugh that makes Teddy chuckle too. She accepts his judgement graciously and changes the subject, enquiring after his book. "It's really wonderful, actually," Teddy says in response to her question as she studies the blurb of _The Picture of Dorian Gray_. "Quite grim, however."

"You're such a dork," she relays affectionately, handing it back to him. "All you do is read, Teddy. Why don't you have a game of Quidditch with us when everyone arrives?"

Teddy blanches, shuddering at the thought of pelting around on a broom. He sets his feet on the ground for reassurance, for that's where he believes they belong, not fifty feet in the air with a stick between his legs. "You know I don't bode well with heights, Lils. Besides, I'll probably disadvantage whoever's team I'm on; you know I can't fly."

Lily pouts and then says, "Will you referee, then?"

Teddy agrees and Lily allows a rare bought of silence to settle between them, the pale light of midday casting an ethereal glow against the soft yellow walls of his favourite sitting room. A gentle summer air brushes the nape of Teddy's neck as Lily watches him reading, unconcerned with the fact that she is staring.

"Do you have any new tattoos?" she asks abruptly. Teddy is always getting new tattoos and Lily never fails to ask him this question whenever he visits.

He looks up from his book, over the lenses of his black frames and takes a moment to comprehend the question. "Yes, as a matter of fact, I do," he responds. He sets his book aside once more, sits his glasses on his head and removes his boots and socks to reveal two freshly fashioned tattoos on his feet, Celtic knots expanding broadly over the skin. He points to the left one, "This is a Quaternary; it symbolizes protection. And this is a Dara knot, an oak tree that symbolizes strength, wisdom and endurance – our inner tree where we can find the roots of stability during times of hardship."

"Cool," Lily croons, studying the tattoos with unwavering interest. "So how many tattoos is that now?"

Teddy shrugs. "I have given up on keeping count, but I believe I'm pushing thirty. I am going again to the parlour next month to get an outline of Hogwarts on my ankle."

Lily claps hers hands enthusiastically, grinning. Then she says, "Teddy, can I see my lily?"

Teddy snickers and scrambles around on the sofa to show the small pink lily he had tattooed in honour of his favourite sister. Lily touches it tenderly and then plants it with a quaint kiss, smiling widely. Teddy grins back at her and their conversation is swept in another pleasant silence.

Teddy stretches out on the sofa in the upstairs sitting room, resting his head on Lily's lap so that she may dutifully play with his hair, stroking her long fingers through the chaotic tresses. Teddy favours his time in the small sitting room alone, but he enjoys Lily's company more than anyone else's, for though she is garish and talkative, she bonds well with him, acknowledging his want for silence when all things are noise and movement. Teddy's solitary convention has surpassed a point where he refrains from troubling Harry and Ginny with his presence when he visits for family gatherings, keeping to himself until every else arrives. They remind him ritually that he is just as welcome in their home as any of their other children, whether by obligation of a birthday or by personal choice, but Teddy remains discreet nonetheless, feeling more comfortable out of the way and in his own head where he cannot bother people.

It is not long before Harry finds them, Lily dozing on the headrest of the sofa and Teddy with his book on his face, staring at a small-printed letter L and thinking about his father, as he usually does when he reads. Teddy knows that perhaps he contemplates his parents more than is healthy, but whenever he brings it up with Harry the latter always dismisses these notions with a sympathetic smile and a touch on the shoulder, declaring them perfectly sound. He is blessed, Teddy thinks, to have been raised by someone who understands him so completely.

"Your hair has turned brown – it suits you," Harry's voice indicates from the door. Lily jerks awake, wiping drool off her chin groggily. Teddy emerges from behind the book and casts a strained eye up to his mop of hair, which has indeed turned a faint shade of sandy brown. Another regular occurrence he is slightly embarrassed by. He concentrates for a second and it assumes its usual lavender purple, chestnut brown where it is cropped short on the sides. Harry approaches him, an eyebrow raised. "Did you raid Ginny's closet _again?_ You weren't wearing that when you arrived."

Teddy sits up and smooths out one of Ginny's summer dresses, white with pink and green and yellow flowers. "You'd think I'd be able to restrain such a habit considering I keep to myself while I'm here," he says ruefully. "But she truly has an exceptional wardrobe – she is only lucky I do not take anything home with me."

Harry nods seriously. "There is that. Are you two coming downstairs? The Weasley's are here."

Teddy closes his book and leaves it on the sofa with his glasses to return to later. He and Lily follow Harry downstairs where they are met with a detonation of twenty Weasley's, a flurry of greetings and yelps of excitement in the main sitting room, a blur of noise as everyone tries to say hello to Ginny at once. For a moment, Teddy cannot discern which Weasley is which, and his hair almost turns ginger from the impact. At the foot of the stairs, Lily spots Rose and plunges through to her, barrelling her cousin down in a hug.

There are shrieks of 'happy birthday' at the sight of Harry emerging with his children and Teddy ducks out of the way as Hermione bursts from the crowd of redheads, threatening to knock over a vase in her eagerness to embrace him tightly. Mrs Weasley is next in line, showering Harry with hugs and kisses.

"Okay!" Ginny screams over the top of her boisterous family. "Let's take this havoc outside, people!"

It is like a rock concert, Teddy thinks with amusement as everyone unanimously squeezes through the kitchen and out the back door where there are tables and chairs enough to accommodate the entire party. Only Percy's daughter, Molly, falters behind. Teddy merges his steps with his friend, having not seen her for weeks, for she is always busy and always in a fluster to get things done.

"How has your summer been?" he asks politely, greeting her with a kiss on the cheek and preparing himself for her typical onslaught.

"Oh, not too bad," she says airily, sounding out of breath already as they walk through the kitchen. "I've been working tirelessly, of course, trying to interview all these people; I'm putting together an article about what _really_ happened during the Battle of Hogwarts because publishers have been raving about all the current stories being inaccurate. And I've got the family to amend facts and deny falsehoods, so I took up the job immediately. I'm dreadfully excited to get started. I asked mum if I could interview everyone today, but she told me to let people actually enjoy Uncle Harry's birthday, so I suppose I'll have to come around another time and do the interviews then. But I've been permitted two weeks off for the summer, so I might take some of that time to fit in a little extra work. It'll be strange, doing nothing, but rejuvenating, I suspect." She pushes her large round glasses up her nose, beaming at Teddy. "How's your summer so far?"

Teddy lifts a shoulder uselessly in response, always awed by Molly's ability to create conversation out of thin air. "I discovered a nest of Doxy's in my flat and my neighbour's cat has begun bothering Moony; otherwise, it has been uneventful." He attempts to recall if he had put his cat inside before locking up the house.

"How's work?"

"Keeps me on my feet; I saw to a patient with Vanishing Sickness the other day,"

They wander out onto the expansive lawn outside the Potter family home, the smell of blossoming roses permeating the air and a back garden gate leading out onto rolling green hills and paddocks where the kids play Quidditch. Harry is being bombarded with gifts and hugs and kisses, the entirety of the outside a burst of colour and cheer and smiles. Teddy takes a deep breath, feeling overwhelmed by so many people, whether they are his family or not. He wonders what they think of him; if they consider him to be family. Teddy hasn't the nerve to say as such, but this is his family, big and anarchic as they are, and he only hopes they think so too.

Soon, everyone is settled into the warm birthday atmosphere, presents and greetings all accounted for and a drink in everyone's hands. One of the boys (Teddy suspects Fred) shouts "Quidditch!" and nearly a dozen people swarm out the back gate and onto the paddocks, all clutching broomsticks they had brought with them.

"Come on, Teddy!" Lily shouts from the fence. "You said you'd referee!"

"Will you join me?" Teddy asks Molly, who is watching with a gentle look of distaste beneath her dark, curly hair. She nods and they pick up two fold-out chairs and follow the squabble of youths who are assembling themselves into two teams.

"We're doing boys verses girls," Lily explains to Teddy as he and her cousin approach the procession.

James is at her feet, opening the casket of Quidditch balls. He tosses Teddy the Quaffle, smirking, his brown eyes twinkling eagerly with anticipation. "Where's your broom?" he probes.

"I'm not flying; I'm refereeing," Teddy says defensively.

"What if you need to foul someone?"

"I'll do it from the bloody ground, thank you,"

James shrugs and takes out the Snitch from its space in the casket, watching it flutter above his hand before it disappears. He swings a leg over his broom and joins the rest of the team in the air, Lily close on his tail. "Who's Seeker for the girls?" he roars.

Dominique thrusts her hand into the air, shooting James a nasty, competitive grin. The ten players position themselves around an unmarked pitch, Rose expertly conjuring two tall goal posts with her wand. Teddy runs out into the middle of the field, attempting not to trip over his boots, and heaves the Quaffle high into the air. The players burst into a tangle of brooms and bats and arms, surging through the air like giant mosquitos. Teddy released one Bludger and he and Molly watch the game carefully from their seats, for the Potter siblings are known to cheat and use loopholes to their advantage and Roxanne and Fred hit the Bludger too hard and Dominque likes to catch the Snitch without telling anyone.

Out by one of the goals sits Louis Weasley as Keeper for the boys' team. Louis Weasley, who is outrageously handsome, his eyebrows bold and his complexion soft, who ties his long blonde hair back as the game plays out before him, and smiles beautifully enough to make Teddy _feel _something. He catches Teddy gazing at him and waves down cheerfully from his broom. Teddy waves back pathetically, already knowing his hair is tinged with pink from humiliation. He wishes he could admit some sort of feelings for Louis, but he isn't certain of them, always fluctuating between infatuation and indifference so that he struggles to grasp anything for long periods of time.

The match ends an hour later; the girls won, but James caught the Snitch, which led to Uncle George telling a story about the 1994 Quidditch World Cup. Teddy settles himself down to listen to him relay the story, aided by Harry and Ron's input and scowls on Ginny's part. Teddy likes to hear stories about their lives as young witches and wizards, when they fought during the war and changed the world. He fancies sitting for hours, just absorbing himself in Harry's memories, playing them out in his imagination like his favourite book.

Teddy's most treasured tales are of his parents and of Remus' life when he was at Hogwarts, but Harry's knowledge is sparse and incomplete and it leaves Teddy feeling unsatisfied for he knows very little about his parents. There is no longer anyone alive with whom he is willing to speak to that will describe to him in detail what his father's life had been like – had been happy? Right handed? Left handed? Did he eat as much chocolate as Teddy ate or read as many books? Teddy knows about his mother and that he inherited her clumsiness and odd sense of humour, but very little about his father, which makes him feel broken and uncomfortable since they look so alike, yet are potentially very different. If it weren't for Teddy's Metamorphmagus abilities, heart-shaped face and sharp features, he was told he would have been an exact likeness of Remus.

He knows Mrs Weasley had been around when Remus was younger than Teddy is now, but he seldom has time to speak with her. He is not her grandchild and it is the other children who require her attention, and so Teddy is the least of her concerns. All she has managed to convey to him is that Remus was very confident in the way he spoke, generous, clever and sensible. She had liked him best out of his friends.

Teddy lingers among the party, nursing a beer and making rare conversation, speaking only when acknowledged. Too many people bear a heavy burden on his chest; a persistent weight that will not lift until he makes his leave, which he understands to be rude, but struggles to resist the temptation. In the company of others, his loneliness manifests itself in uncomfortable bends of the chairs and in the empty bottles of beer on the table, for everyone has someone, but not Teddy.

Harry wanders over to him from the other side of the long table. He kneels down beside his Godson and gently removes the fifth bottle of ale from Teddy's grasp.

"You can go back upstairs now, if you like," Harry says. He is sympathetic and he fathoms Teddy better than most.

Teddy thanks him and departs back inside, his footsteps heavy and clumsy against the stairs, stumbling with evidence of having perhaps drunk more than is appropriate. He returns to the sitting room, the yellow walls orange now in the afternoon sun. Throwing himself across the sofa, he buries his face into the pillows and lets out a long sigh, feeling desolate, and feeling the need to cry. Teddy is not the type to cry; he knows better than to reveal his emotions when they are not welcome, but sometimes he wishes he had someone to talk to. Lily hears him well, but she does not understand; she has more family than she can count on two hands and she considers Teddy to be family, and so she fails to see why he feels so alone.

It is not a miserable existence, Teddy ponders. He finds his confinement from people consoling. There is less noise; less to be concerned with. It only troubles him that he lacks acquaintances who might relate more strongly to him than even Harry does. In a family where the presence of noise is like wind on the sea, there isn't a weary sailor who longs for the company of silence as Teddy does.

This is why he spends so much in the sitting room upstairs on his visits to the Potter's home. Upon such occasions, he buries himself in the books that are shelved here between the walls that are an ever-burning sunrise – dozens of bookcases with thousands of tales lingering between leather-bound pages and in the dusty crevices of letters and line breaks and in the creased spines of books read and loved and quickly forgotten. Teddy knows it is unwise to consider books as his friends and companions, so he assumes a different perspective, through the eyes of another, where he can have daring adventures and fill his heart with song and have just a taste of what it might feel like to love another.

Teddy will not admit that what he feels for Louis may be love; love is big and it is awesome, and the way Teddy harbours fancy for Louis is small and lonesome. Love sends men onto the battlefield when there is no cause left to fight for and it strikes jealousy and torment into the hearts of the unwanted and forsaken. Teddy is no fool to assume that what he feels is love. Yet he questions it all the same, for he is unaccustomed to love; perhaps he fails only in recognizing it for it is.

If that were the case, he would like to share something, he thinks, with Louis. Share a meaning or a word or a touch that does not dwell in the syndicate of others who watch and listen and hover upon that which is not theirs to witness. Teddy wishes to share something private; unmentionable and loud in the silence. Thunder when the storm has been thought to pass.

Teddy does not notice the discrepancy between the day and night as it passes with an unearthly shudder over the rolling hills of emerald and amber. He is called down to dinner by Hermione and afterwards he retreats back upstairs and he does not notice the sun set, lost in the myriad of words and worlds at his fingertips.

There is a disruption, however, in the recess of the sunset when the earth is a quiet sigh, at last warm in the right places as the oncoming night time cools the summer air. The walls of the sitting room are golden honey in the fading dusk and the pale lamplight by the sofa. Teddy looks up from his book to see a silhouette standing by the door, tall and stately in the shadows. Louis steps forward into the light where Teddy admires the soft illumination of his skin and the eerie glint of yellow in his shoulder-length hair. His eyes narrow, studying Teddy carefully, patching together broken puzzle pieces. Teddy notices how he is different now, without the pestering of family surrounding him – different, but the same; still regal and gentle in his mannerisms as he moves over and sits beside Teddy, still handsome and curious in his mien, his eyebrows knitted together in a frenzy of questions.

"Have you been up here all this time?" he asks. His voice is elegant, laced slightly with a French accent he had picked up from spending so much time in his mother's home country. It sets Teddy on edge to hear it, his heart thumping weakly in his chest like the swooning girls in his favourite books.

Teddy nods stiffly, fingering the corner of his book self-consciously as he removes his glasses, resisting the urge to either bury his face in shame or kiss Louis out of the pure need to have him even closer. The way he bites and licks his lips is temptation enough to show Teddy how starved he is of affection.

"I wish I could do that," Louis sighs, stretching back against the sofa, his t-shirt taunt against the smooth definition of his muscles. "Being with the family is wonderful, really, but it's dreadfully tiring to spend so many hours talking to people with whom you no longer have anything left to say to. You are blessed, in this respect, for they are not really your family. I don't really know why you stay when you hide up here on your own."

Teddy swallows anxiously, guilt and self-loathing rising in his throat like fresh bile when he has not eaten for two days. His is brutally torn between fury at the audacity of Louis to say such a thing and his own idle selfishness for not being a better guest. Harry understands his need to be alone, of course, but that this does not make Teddy any less rude for shutting himself away. This is not his home, despite his regular visits, and he must not treat it as such; he has his own flat in which to wallow and be solitary.

Louis reads Teddy's rigid reactions and pales, chewing his lip fretfully. "I'm sorry," he mutters. "I didn't mean to be insolent. I forget that this is the nearest thing you have to family."

"It is nothing," Teddy responds courteously, biting back tears. He takes a deep breath, attempting some form of civil humour, for he does not wish to alienate himself against Louis. Louis is still young and boyish, tactless at the mouth and in the eyes and ways of the heart. He capers about like he is still the most sought after boy in school. He has not yet grown out of the shell of his student life, forced to wilt beneath the burning rays of an adulthood he is not prepared for. Teddy makes a small, sweeping gesture around the sitting room, closing his book. "What brings you to my hiding place?"

Louis chuckles, his smile broad and beautiful. It affects Teddy's stomach in a way it likely shouldn't, making him catch his breath unexpectedly.

"For the same reason as you; it gets a bit much down there. And we have not spoken all day," Louis elaborates. His hand brushes over Teddy's leg, reaching over to take the book. His fingers trace the bumps of the cover. Teddy can smell the shampoo in his long hair. "I have so many things to say, yet all the wrong people to tell them to. But perhaps it is better this way; if you were always around when I needed you I fear I would never be silent."

Louis looks up from the book cover, his eyes wide, threatening to undress Teddy and lay him bare to words and noises and the thoughts in the night that keep him awake. This is how he has always wanted to be undressed; with words and piercing gazes and whispers in the dark. But he suddenly finds it frightening as it exposes him to a different level of comfort where he is awkward and clumsy still in his way of being, but carefully so, no longer feeling harshly tried by those he knows will not judge him. He would empty himself just to be filled with Louis' silences.

"I'd not object to that," Teddy mumbles before he can stop himself. His cheeks burn with mortification and his hair flushes a violent shade of pink at the roots.

Louis covers his mouth as a laugh escapes him, drowning Teddy in its merriment. He sits up straight again, watching Teddy with a curious face. He pouts for a moment, lost in thought. "Now that I have leave to speak, I don't know what to say. You've rendered me speechless, Teddy."

Teddy himself is speechless, wondering what has become of this boy.

_I'm older than him_, Teddy thinks furiously, shaking his hair back to lavender. _This isn't how it's supposed to work._

He would pluck up his courage, but he dismally discovers he has none to gather. Cumbersomely, he submits himself to this playful banter until the bravery to flirt back finds him instead.

"Don't you get lonely, up here on your own?" Louis says, his gaze not leaving Teddy's. "How do you stand to listen to your own thoughts so willingly?"

"It's an acquired habit," Teddy utters.

"Don't you go mad?"

"Sometimes,"

Teddy is still unsure of what to make of this boy; this teenager who, by all accounts, should be on the receiving end of a flirtatious gesture – preferably one from Teddy. It is without cause for Louis to be behaving this way and Teddy feels disarmed and feverish, unsure if his heart is hammering from fear or desire. He wonders still if it could be fancy, or perhaps even love what he feels for Louis, or if the heavy tremor of Teddy's heart is just adrenaline and a perpetual state of social encumbrance. He isn't sure – he is never sure.

Louis is quiet now, eyes at his feet. Teddy wonders what happens now.

"Life away from Hogwarts is so different," Louis says to his shoes. "I do not know what I ought to be expecting from it, but certainly a little more than what I have already achieved. It is almost boring. And it's quiet; so quiet without the anarchy of four other boys in my room."

"It has only been a month since you graduated," advises Teddy cautiously. "I remember I did not do anything remotely significant for about three months. I am still somewhat in denial about not going back to that castle at the end of every summer."

Louis looks up, his expression sombre. "I forget you graduated so long ago; you do not seem so much older when I do not dwell on it."

"I'm not old," retorts Teddy uneasily, wrinkling his nose.

"You're a great deal older than me," Louis adds remorsefully. "I was a First Year when you were in Seventh."

Teddy turns this over in his mind. He has not considered the age gap between he and Louis to be of any importance, and his tendency to be so easily seduced by this boy is evidence of that. Teddy has long since forgotten to follow the rules of society. He thinks them unnecessary; in place only to inflict pain and inconvenience. He has no qualms in having any potential feelings for Louis, but he must first reassess them and evaluate them for what they are. This uncertainty is a burden, for Teddy has always been relatively sure of himself. He was sure of belonging in Hufflepuff, and he was sure of his position as Head Boy; he was sure of his career path as a Healer and even now he is sure of the dresses he wears and the tattoos he covers himself in. But Teddy is unsure of his emotions; they are alien and unforgiving and it makes his head hurt behind his eyes. In this respect, the age gap is the least of his worries.

"Is that a problem?" he inquires, casting an eye over to Louis briefly. The other boy has his chin in his hands, his hair a veil of starlight tickling his fingers. Teddy resists the urge to reach out and touch it, to feel its soft tresses through his own fingers.

Louis returns his gaze and slowly shakes his head. "It would never trouble me, no. I only wonder if you think it strange to… talk to me, when I am so young."

_We're having two separate conversations_, Teddy thinks starchily. His emotions feel slightly harassed by the confidence of this boy; there are very small discrepancies between his flirting and his general conversing.

"I do not think it strange," Teddy confesses. "There are very few with whom I can talk to, so age is of no concern to me. Take Lily and I for example; she is even younger than you, yet she is my best friend."

Louis' expression sinks at this, something shifting behind his eyes that are so blue Teddy's hair nearly changes colour. "Do you like Lily, then?"

Teddy realizes his mistake and recovers it quickly. "I could not love her more even if she were truly my sister."

Louis smiles then and shifts closer so subtly Teddy almost does not notice. He takes a deep breath. He knows he ought to overcome his nerves, but Louis' effect on him is exasperating and firm, like there are two hands around Teddy's neck and he is being choked, but is amazed to realize he enjoys struggling to breathe.

Louis motions to speak again when the voice of his elder sister Victoire resounds from the stairs, her slight French accent rolling gently off her tongue. "Louis? _Petit Guerrier, _it's time to go."

Louis shoots an apologetic look to Teddy and stands from the sofa to leave. However, he remains for a second longer and stoops his tall body down to Teddy, kissing him long and hard. Teddy's heart screams in his chest and his hair turns a shocking magenta, but his lips responds enthusiastically, his appetite finally sated.

Louis leaves Teddy's lips partially swollen and his cheeks flushed and his hair pink. Teddy exhales and runs a trembling hand through his hair. This is not how it is supposed to go, he thinks, but perhaps it is finally something to share.

...

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I hope you all enjoyed it. Again, please let me know if you thought it was stupid/offensive/insensitive. I am learning and I want be accommodating. This wasn't written with the intention to mock or bully.

On the subject of the hiatus, I have hit a serious implication by way of writer's block for this fic, because I don't actually have any concrete ideas on where it ought to go. That being said, I did this out of experimentation, in order to try something new. I may come back to this story, but for the time being, I think I will leave it at this. I apologize to those of you who were looking forward to any new chapters.


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